by Nell Stark
Corrie watched through glazed eyes as Quinn’s head fell back onto the pillows, back arching as she moaned and moved her hips in counterpoint to Corrie’s rhythm. Her hands found Corrie’s strong shoulders, clenching and unclenching, faster and faster, until her head snapped up and her gaze locked with Corrie’s, wide and wild.
“Oh—”
The world stopped for one single, perfect instant, and then she was coming, shaking helplessly like a sail in irons. She buried her face in the curve of Corrie’s neck, her short, ragged cries playing counterpoint to the jerking movements of her body as Corrie continued to touch her gently, coaxing out every last shudder. Her gasping breaths burned in her throat.
Corrie finally moved her hand up to rub Quinn’s stomach again in light, comforting strokes. When Quinn’s eyes opened, they were brimming with tears that quickly spilled over. Corrie brushed them away with tender fingertips and frowned.
“Did I—”
But Quinn’s sudden, brilliant smile interrupted her. “I’m okay,” she said haltingly. She even laughed, through the tears. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
Corrie bent down to kiss her forehead. Her body begged for release after the intensity of Quinn’s reaction, but she forced her hips to be still. “You’re so beautiful. Do you believe it now?”
Quinn nuzzled at Corrie’s shoulder, inhaled the warm, comforting scent of her. “Yes,” she said, burrowing even closer. It was a miracle, but she did. Her body felt boneless—full and heavy and at peace. In this one, perfect instant, everything was as it should be.
As Quinn relaxed, Corrie’s focus couldn’t help but turn inward, toward the maelstrom that raged unslaked beneath her skin. Deep, steady breaths only fed the flames, and she had to fight to remain still and silent. Despite her best efforts, however, the feelings did not recede. Instead, she felt increasingly dizzy—overwhelmed by a strange vertigo that forced her to clutch the sheets for purchase.
Never been like that, she realized, on the edge of panic. That intense, that good. With Brad, with Megs, with Drew, she knew what to do next. Say thanks and get on with life. But this was uncharted territory, and once again Corrie had no idea how to proceed.
She’ll probably fall asleep, and then I can get up, she thought in relief. She’s half-asleep already.
But then Quinn moved her hand from where it had settled on Corrie’s arm, stroking upward to rub lightly against her breast. Corrie’s body pulsed—desire crackling to the surface like a solar flare. She bit her bottom lip hard to keep from crying out. Desperately, she hoped that Quinn might think she had fallen asleep, but when that hesitant touch was followed by one finger’s firm pressure against her nipple, Corrie couldn’t suppress a moan.
“Does that feel good?” Quinn pinched with her thumb and index finger.
“Ye-es.” Corrie said when she did it again, harder. Quinn continued to explore her breasts—sometimes squeezing, sometimes stroking, sometimes caressing so lightly that Corrie could barely feel her. Each tentative touch burned between her legs, until Corrie was shifting restlessly.
When Quinn’s warm mouth closed over one nipple, Corrie cried out sharply and pulled Quinn on top of her. Quinn’s hungry eyes met hers before Quinn closed the gap between them with a long, thorough kiss. Corrie had an instant in which to wonder what exactly had happened to Quinn’s hesitant kissing style before her rational thought was swept away on the tide that purged her brain and body of every single feeling but desire.
Her hips bucked beneath Quinn, who slid to one side and pushed Corrie’s loose shorts down her legs. Quinn’s hands were shaking, and she sucked in a loud breath as Corrie finally lay naked before her. Quinn was drawn to the tight, dark blond curls in the center of Corrie’s body. She wanted to touch her there, to feel the crinkly hair and hot, silky skin beneath, to make her feel the same impossible pleasure. But she had been so overwhelmed when Corrie was touching her that she had no idea what Corrie had actually done. Tentatively, she let her fingertips skim over Corrie’s lips. Soft.
Quinn’s uncertainty felt like teasing, like an ecstatic kind of torture. Corrie strained desperately to feel more, but Quinn stopped and cupped her tenderly. Corrie’s eyes snapped open, hazed in anguish. “God, Quinn—”
“Help me. Show me what you want.”
Corrie slid a trembling hand down her stomach to cover Quinn’s, guiding her middle finger inside while urging Quinn’s thumb to circle the swollen knot of nerves above. “Like that...oh…” Corrie’s hands fell nerveless to her sides at the exquisite pressure, both inside and out. Quinn continued the slow thrusts, watching in awe as her strokes stripped Corrie of the last shreds of control.
Corrie wanted to keep her eyes open, but the pleasure forced them shut, forced her breaths to become ragged in her throat. Soon, soon, soon. The pressure was building, a tidal wave behind the dam. Quinn continued her gentle touches, even as Corrie arched her hips, physically striving after the climax that hovered just out of reach. Higher and higher Quinn drove her with those tender caresses, higher and higher and higher until Corrie became mindless with passion. Her eyes opened, immediately locking on to Quinn’s. The rest of the room grew dark.
“Oh, please, please I have to please—”
Quinn heard the strong note of panic in Corrie’s voice and squeezed her clitoris gently between thumb and index finger. Despite Corrie’s desperation, the pleasure was not short and sharp. It flattened her body in wave after rolling wave, as endless and eternal as the ocean. And as she watched Corrie succumb to the ecstasy, watched her ignorant fingers working this magic, Quinn felt herself fall in love all over again.
“So beautiful,” she said, milking the very last of the spasms from Corrie’s exhausted body. “So incredibly beautiful.”
When Corrie finally lay quiescent beneath her, Quinn held her just as she herself had been held. Corrie pillowed her head on Quinn’s breasts, her pale hair fanning out across Quinn’s stomach.
“You feel really good,” Quinn dared to confess. I love you, god how I love you, even more than I did before.
Corrie mumbled something incoherent and hugged her tightly. A minute later, her arms loosened their hold as she fell into a deep sleep. Smiling, Quinn managed to snag the afghan at the foot of the bed with her left toe and covered them both with it.
Right, she thought sleepily. It was her last thought before exhaustion and heavy satisfaction pulled her under. This feels so very right.
Right of Way
Quinn woke to the sound of her own name and the aroma of cooking eggs. Corrie’s lips were warm and soft against her ear.
“Quinn...hey, sleepy, time to get up.”
She rolled onto her back and blinked as Corrie’s face slowly came into focus. “Hey,” she replied. As she stretched, Corrie’s gaze moved down her body. For a second, Quinn felt an overwhelming urge to cover herself with the sheet, but then she saw the appreciation in Corrie’s eyes and was able to relax.
“If we didn’t have to race,” Corrie said, her voice low and gritty, “I wouldn’t let you out of bed for hours, yet.”
Quinn’s breaths stuttered in her lungs. “Oh.” Blushing, she cleared her throat. “Um, rain check?”
Corrie laughed. “Fine by me.” She sat down next to Quinn on the bed. “How does an omelet sound for breakfast? You’ll need your strength today.”
“Mmm, is that what I smell?” Quinn rubbed her cheek against Corrie’s arm. God it felt good just to be close like this—to share this kind of intimacy. “I’d love one.”
“Cool. Give me ten minutes.” Corrie leaned down to gently kiss Quinn’s forehead. “Do you regret it?” she asked softly. “I know...I know you broke your rule.”
Quinn looked up at her for several silent moments. “No. I don’t regret it at all.”
Corrie smiled—a little bit in relief, Quinn thought. “Good.” She leaned down to press a lingering kiss on the corner of Quinn’s mouth. “See you downstairs in a few.”
Quinn watched
her walk away, already clad in her token sports bra and swim trunks. And I didn’t break my rule, she thought at Corrie’s tan back. I love you. But I’m afraid if I tell you, I’ll break the spell.
She lay still, feeling the crispness of the sheet against her back, the warmth of the sunlight on her chest. Do I feel different? She sat up slowly and shifted so that her feet were touching the wood floor. Her clothes were lying folded on the desk chair; Corrie must have picked them up when she’d awakened earlier. Experimentally, she rolled her shoulders and flexed her quads. Her muscles felt relaxed, and her head was clear. Crisp. Free of the hazing desire that had so plagued her the night before.
Am I different? She looked down at herself—at her breasts, at her familiar, too-round belly, at the patch of curly hair between her legs. Corrie had mapped her body, had touched her everywhere. And I... She raised her fingers to her nose and breathed in. Oh, god. That scent, musky and pungent, made her want nothing more than to feel and be felt all over again.
But breakfast awaited, and then the race. Quinn got to her feet and quickly pulled on her clothes. It was time to stop dilly-dallying. If they could win, maybe Corrie would finally feel better. Stronger, not as threatened by Will, and perhaps even able to forgive Denise. Who was, Quinn realized, even more of a fool than she had originally thought.
“She loved you, and you refused to honor that,” Quinn said to her reflection in Corrie’s mirror. But I’m not going to make that mistake, she pledged silently as she headed for the stairway. Even if she never says the words.
*
Quinn made her way down the hall, weaving between small groups of sailors as she headed toward the skipper’s meeting in the chart room. Technically, she wasn’t obligated to be there, but it didn’t make any sense to wait at home once she’d stopped in to retrieve her sailing gear. And more than that, she wanted to be with Corrie for any showdowns she might have with Will and Denise.
Quinn stopped just inside the door, leaning against the wall as she surveyed the buzzing crowd. She was immediately surprised by the diversity of the group. At least a third of the skippers were middle-aged. She had expected to see more men than women, but even that split was less drastic than she had anticipated. Everywhere she looked, people were talking and gesturing excitedly, and Quinn felt herself start to relax. Casual. The atmosphere’s a lot less competitive than I thought it would be.
But then she finally caught sight of Corrie, and her pulse jumped back into hyper-drive. Oh, she looks so good. Quinn suddenly felt thirsty and just the slightest bit dizzy. Shaking her head, she moved toward the familiar figure.
Incredible. It was the only word she could think of. Corrie owned several “rash guards,” as Quinn had heard her call them—skin-tight shirts made from a special kind of polyester that blocked both sun and salt water—but she had never seen this particular one before. It was a deep blue, with bands of gray at the collar and on both short sleeves, and as Quinn drew closer, she could make out Georgetown’s crest above Corrie’s left breast. The shirt left nothing to the imagination. Quinn could see the prominent bulges of her biceps, and her six-pack abs, and the contours of the muscles that flared out slightly just above her hips. Tight, dark gray shorts struggled to contain her strong legs, finally giving way to tan skin several inches above her knees.
Quinn suddenly flashed to the sight of Corrie’s naked body, bow-tight beneath her in the fragile instant before orgasm. She breathed in sharply as her own body sparked at the memory, as her fingers ached to be enclosed again by the wet grip of Corrie’s inner muscles.
“Quinn, hey!” Corrie’s voice, uncharacteristically high-pitched, shocked Quinn out of her reverie. She had no memory of crossing the room, but there she was, standing next to Corrie, who was facing off with her brother and a petite, perky brunette whose painted-on smile nearly out-dazzled the morning sunshine. A rather large diamond glinted on her left hand. Denise. It had to be. And she was much, much prettier than Quinn.
“Glad you’re here,” Corrie said, her voice noticeably strained. She slipped one arm around Quinn’s waist and drew her close. A few weeks ago, Quinn probably would have minded the show of possession, but after last night? It felt right, somehow. She rubbed her cheek briefly against Corrie’s shoulder and tried to look relaxed. “You’ve met Will, but this is his fiancée and crew, Denise Lewis. Denise—Quinn Davies, my crew and my girlfriend.”
Both Will and Quinn looked surprised at Corrie’s use of that particular word. Despite having never really liked it, Quinn found that she didn’t mind it applied to her now. Especially with that “my” in front of it.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Denise. Her smile was surprisingly wide as she focused in on Quinn.
Weird, Quinn thought. She almost looks relieved. She shook hands and tried not to let on that she could feel Corrie vibrating with suppressed tension. Her back was ramrod straight, and Quinn suddenly understood why every single one of her muscles was jumping out in high-definition. At this rate, she’ll waste all her adrenaline, just by standing still.
“So,” Denise asked conversationally. “How long have you been sailing?”
The question was presumably meant to rattle her, but instead, Quinn found herself enjoying the prospect of being the underdog. “I started lessons in early June,” she said, shrugging, “so, not long at all, really.” When Denise nodded benevolently, Quinn pointed to her sleek white US Sailing shirt and pretended ignorance. “Were you in the Olympics as well?”
“Yes,” Denise said, “though we haven’t been on the circuit for a few years now.” She turned then to look up sweetly at Will. “That’s where we met.” Will grinned back indulgently.
Quinn barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes and instead brushed her hand surreptitiously along Corrie’s forearm in a meager attempt to soothe her. Corrie’s skin nearly burned the tips of Quinn’s fingers. That’s it, she thought suddenly. She’s driving herself crazy here.
“That’s so great,” she said, before lightly gripping Corrie’s wrist. “I hate to say this, Mars, but don’t you have a meeting to run?” Quinn used the nickname deliberately, hoping to catch Corrie’s attention.
“Oh,” Corrie said, pulling back and nodding. She shrugged in what passed for an apologetic manner. “I really should be going, I guess.”
“Sure, Cor,” said Will. “See you on the water.”
“It was good to see you again, Corrie,” Denise chimed in. “And nice to meet you, Quinn.”
Quinn successfully reined in her impulse to trip Denise as she and Will wandered off to find seats. She looked up into Corrie’s dilated eyes and deliberately squeezed her hand. “How are you doing?”
“Okay. I’m okay.”
“Try to stay calm for now,” Quinn said as she stroked the back of Corrie’s hand with one thumb. “Save it for the water.”
Corrie nodded. Her face was suddenly very vulnerable, and if they hadn’t been in a crowded room, Quinn would have dared to lean in for a kiss. “I’m glad you’re here,” Corrie said quietly. “I think maybe you rescued me, just then.”
“You would have been fine on your own.”
“No,” Corrie replied vaguely. “I’m not sure you’re right about that.” But she looked down at her watch, and her eyes widened slightly. “I actually do need to get started.” This time, the note of apology in her voice was genuine. Quinn could tell.
“Okay.” She was turning away to find a spare strip of wall to lean against, when Corrie caught her shoulder.
“Meet me in my office, an hour before the start,” she breathed into Quinn’s ear. The gentle, prickling sensation forced goose bumps to the surface of her arms.
“Okay.”
When she turned around, Corrie had melted into the crowd.
*
Corrie, ensconced in the swivel chair behind her desk, twisted from side to side as she gazed out the window. The boathouse’s flag streamed steadily in her direction. She had checked the radar only a few minutes earlier.
No storms in the vicinity. Fourteen knots, no gusting. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her biceps experimentally. A perfect day.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, she immediately looked up, expecting Quinn. But the doorway remained mysteriously empty, until—
“You’re not going to throw anything, are you?” Quinn’s voice sounded wary.
Corrie grinned. “The coast is clear. Come on in.”
“Hi.” Quinn closed the door behind her, walked right up to Corrie, and leaned against the desk instead of sitting on her lap, as had been her original intent. Chicken.
Fortunately, Corrie read her mind. “This is softer,” she said, patting her thighs. For some reason, she was feeling the overwhelming urge to be in physical contact with Quinn every chance she got. And I’m not in the mood to deny myself—not today. Not after last night.
Quinn settled warmly into Corrie’s embrace, loving how easily they meshed together. “You feel good.”
“So do you.” One of Corrie’s hands rubbed circles on Quinn’s stomach while the other lightly stroked her knee. “Are you feeling okay about the race?” Corrie asked. Her words were warm against Quinn’s neck. “Anything you want to go over one last time before we head out?”
“Hmm.” Quinn traced Corrie’s bicep through the rash guard as she thought. “Well, as much as I hate to bring them up, you’ve seen Will and Denise sail, right? Is there anything we can focus on that will specifically help us beat them?”